


This and this and this

by amscray_punk



Series: Yes, Chef [4]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romance, am i avoiding tags? maybe, follow up to Home Sweet Home, idk y'all know what you're in for lbr, k here we go, like literally the moment it ends, spot is so fucking gone over race, that's enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amscray_punk/pseuds/amscray_punk
Summary: Spot has some things to make up for.*This is like chapter 3 of Home Sweet Home, I wrote them that way but wanted to post this as a one shot because of the rating. So. Read that first. (please)**You guessed it! It's more smut. But it's like, sweet too. Idk. Consider this your warning.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Yes, Chef [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953946
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	This and this and this

**Author's Note:**

> So what started as a fun one shot has just.. turned into this series that I can't seem to stop writing. Oh well. They're disasters and I love them. 
> 
> Title is gleefully stolen from The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, again I must _insist_ you all go read it RIGHT NOW (well, not RIGHT now but like, y'know ASAP) because it is ugghhh so good. SO good. Anyway. This picks up where Home Sweet Home left off. Enjoy.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Insufferable.”

“Too late, Spotty,” Race quipped, positively joyful. “You already signed up for this—what was it—human dumpster fire?”

“That’s okay,” Spot mused, reaching up to loosen Race’s tie. His voice, pitched low, sent a shiver down Race’s spine. “At least I’ll be warm.”

“Damn, Conlon,” Race whispered, digging his fingers into Spot’s shoulders. “You must like me a lot.”

Spot hummed, pulling the collar of Race’s shirt out of the way to press his lips lightly to the base of his throat. “Why don’t you get in the bedroom and let me show you how much?”

Race tipped his chin up, biting his lip. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt Spot’s lips work softly, slowly up the side of his neck.

“What’d ya have in mind?”

“I dunno,” Spot said thoughtfully, trailing his soft kisses now along Race’s jawline as he made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He ducked down to kiss along the curve of his throat, and Race gasped quietly; the featherlight touch was a little unusual for Spot and it was driving Race crazy. “I’ve been thinkin’ about all the reasons you’re worth the risk, and I kinda wanna tell you all about ‘em,” He murmured, working his way up the other side of Race’s neck, now. “Or better yet, show you.”

“Shit,” Race breathed. He felt his shirt fall off his shoulders and it was a testament to Spot’s skillful mouth that he didn’t immediately feel the chill of the air on his skin—too warm and flushed from the attention. Even so, the urge to be in Spot’s comfortable bed instead of the kitchen was suddenly overwhelming. He felt Spot’s smile against his skin as he nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Spot stepped back to give him some room, and Race led the way to the bedroom, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly when he noticed Spot had stopped to pick up his shirt from the floor. He stepped out of his pants when he entered, dropping them and his tie carelessly on the floor before climbing onto his knees on the bed. He heard the heavy sigh from behind him and grinned, turning just in time to see Spot drop his work clothes into the laundry basket. He giggled softly as Spot approached.

“Just out of curiosity, is my tidiness on your list?”

“Funnily enough, it isn’t,” Spot said dryly, joining him on the bed. Race noticed suddenly that Spot was still dressed, albeit in comfy clothes. Race was already down to his boxers. He reached for Spot’s shirt; Spot took the hint and Race watched with his lip between his teeth as he tossed it across the room, almost effortlessly landing in the basket. Race ran a hand over his chest, which Spot allowed for a moment before he wrapped his fingers gently around his wrist, pushing against Race’s chest with his other hand until he fell back against the pillows. 

“But you still like me?” Race asked breathily as Spot straddled his hips, effectively pinning him in place. Not that he minded. Spot shrugged. 

"Picking up after you is a small price to pay,"

"Yeah?"

"You kidding?" Spot leaned down to kiss him, and Race was again taken a little off guard by the gentleness. But he certainly wasn't going to complain; actually, he _almost_ did, when Spot pulled away, but his next words drove any complaints from his mind. "If it means I get this—" he ran his hands down Race’s bare sides, drawing another shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. "—in my bed every night? Yeah. Worth it." 

Race opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he was going to say but Spot cut him off with his lips again and he eagerly obliged, slipping a hand into Spot’s hair. This kiss wasn’t quite as soft, but it was deep, purposeful, and Race was breathless when he pulled away. 

“So what _is_ on the list, then?” He managed, curiosity getting the better of his admittedly limited patience. He drank in the sight of Spot hovering over him, looking at him like he couldn’t believe his luck. His lips parted in a quiet gasp when Spot twisted a hand into his curls, perhaps more gently than he ever had before.

“Let’s just start from the top,” Spot said, smirking as he leaned over him again to brush his lips against his ear. “These curls, Racer, as wild and beautiful as you are,” Race’s eyes fluttered closed, almost a defense mechanism as he tried to focus on the myriad of sensations; Spot’s fingers in his hair, his voice, his breath in his ear, sending shivers down the back of his neck. “Doesn’t matter if you do anything to ‘em or not, they always look perfect. But I _really_ like the way they look when I—” 

“Oh,” Race gasped when Spot tugged gently, tilting his head slightly to the side. He forced his eyes open, not wanting to miss the glint in Spot’s eyes, the smirk on his lips. “Spot—” He almost whined in protest when Spot loosened his grip, trailing his hand down the side of his face. He ran a thumb across Race’s cheekbone, and the tenderness in his dark eyes made Race wonder why he’d ever doubted Spot’s feelings for him. 

“And this,” Spot went on, softly, thoughtfully. Race gulped, his breathing shallow from the undivided attention; felt almost like Spot was looking straight through him. He shivered under his gaze and the corner of Spot’s mouth lifted. “These eyes. Don’t think I’ve ever seen this color blue before.” Spot sounded almost awed as he looked at him. "And these dimples, I mean, fuck, how am I supposed to say no to that?" Race felt his cheeks warm at the overt praise but he wouldn't deny he fucking _loved_ it and he grinned, knowing his dimples were on full display. 

Race’s stomach flipped when Spot brushed his fingertip slowly over his bottom lip. He took a shuddering breath in as his lips parted for him, completely entranced by the way Spot was looking at him. 

“You know what my favorite thing about your mouth is?”

“What?” Race breathed, distantly disappointed in his current inability to come up with a snarky response—for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to ruin the moment. Spot smirked.

“It’s probably not what you think, although I _do_ appreciate your talents more than I can say,” He said sincerely. Race whined softly as Spot’s finger moved along his top lip, featherlight and focused. “No, it’s this—this little dip, right here, do you know what this is called?” Race shook his head. “It’s called a cupid’s bow,” Spot explained, smirking at Race’s surprised expression. “I looked it up, shut up. Anyway, yours is perfect, just like the rest of you.”

Race’s hands, which had been resting on Spot’s chest, slid up to the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that seemed to surprise Spot but he melted into it, one hand cupping Race’s jaw while the other slid down his side to rest on his hip. The warm, firm touch of his hand was almost overwhelming after the gentle brushes of moments ago and Race’s lips parted in a stuttered gasp. Spot took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and Race desperately pulled him closer, whimpering in the back of his throat when he felt Spot against his thigh; knew Spot could feel him, too and it just made him even more impatient. He ran his hands down Spot’s sides, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his pants. Spot immediately reached for his hands, pulling them away and pinning them, gently but firmly, on either side of his head.

“Huh-uh,” Spot murmured against his lips, smirking when Race whined in protest. “This isn’t about me, baby.”

“But—”

“Shh, I’m not done,” Spot kissed him once more, quickly, before he leaned in to kiss just under his ear. Race moaned softly as Spot made his way along his jaw, hands moving to rest lightly on his hips. “This jawline, your throat…” He could feel the vibrations from Spot’s voice as he dragged his lips down the front of his neck, pausing to press a kiss in the hollow of his throat. “These freckles, _God_ , your freckles, Racer,” Spot laughed a little as he said it, moving his lips along his collar bone, now. “You are somehow both adorable and so fucking sexy, I can’t stand it.”

“God, Spot,” Race groaned, twisting his hands into Spot’s hair again as he made his way steadily down his chest, pressing those intoxicatingly soft kisses down, down. “Please, let me—”

“Shh,” Spot said again and Race could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m almost to the best part.”

“Fuck,” Race breathed, arching against him when he felt Spot’s lips reach the top of his abs; Spot pushed his hips back down against the bed. 

“I’ve always wondered where these abs came from, you know,” Spot said against his skin. Race laughed quietly. “It’s like you don’t even have to work for them.”

“We all have our secrets, Spotty,” His name came out in a gasp when Spot’s mouth began working steadily down his stomach, his kisses soft and positively maddening. His grip tightened in his hair, drawing a low rumble of a laugh from Spot that made his hips twitch again. 

“Witchcraft,” Spot mumbled, trailing his lips above Race’s waistband to press a kiss to one hip, then the other. Race whined again, digging his nails into Spot’s shoulders—the only skin he could reach, with Spot kneeling between his legs. 

“Spot, _please_ ,” 

“Please what?” Spot asked innocently, hooking his fingers into the sides of his boxer briefs and tugging just slightly, following the movement with his lips. Race groaned, twisting his hands into his own hair.

“Touch me, or let me touch you,” His breath caught in his throat when Spot pulled his underwear completely off, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder—nowhere near the basket, he noted distantly. Spot sat up on his knees, running his hands up Race’s thighs as he took in the sight of him on the bed. Race almost pouted as he looked back, raking his eyes over Spot’s bare chest; a needy groan tore from his throat at the sight of Spot’s sweatpants, not at _all_ hiding how much Spot wanted him, too. “Look at you—”

“Nah,” Spot shook his head, wrapping a hand around the base of Race’s cock and grinning when Race’s head fell back against the pillows. “Look at you. You’re stunning, you know that? Of course you do. And this,” He murmured, working his hand slowly up and down as he leaned over him again. “This is another thing about you, Racer. You get so hard for me, so easily—”

“Shut up—”

“No, I love it,” Spot assured him and suddenly Spot’s mouth was on his again and he bucked into his hand, groaning. “It’s _so_ hot.” 

“Nngh, fuck,” Race panted against Spot’s lips, whimpering when Spot pulled away. He reached for him again, wanting desperately to touch him, do something with his hands. But Spot shook his head as he continued the steady movement of his hand, and Race couldn’t focus on anything else. “Spot, I wanna touch you.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby,” Spot murmured, smiling as he pressed his lips to his stomach again, resuming his steady trail of kisses. “I’ve got a free hand.”

“I know, but I want to,” Race insisted, forcing his eyes to stay open; not wanting to miss the view for anything. Spot looked up through his lashes at him and grinned almost wickedly. Without breaking eye contact, Spot kissed the head of his dick and Race cursed loudly.

“I know, and that’s another thing I love about you,” Spot said thoughtfully, and Race’s heart clenched in his chest at the word. _Easy, Tony._ “You’re so selfless. But this is about you, I wanna make _you_ feel good.” Spot licked up the underside of his cock and Race forgot how to breathe.

“Shit,” He groaned, eyes fluttering closed despite his best efforts. The soft, slow assault of Spot’s mouth and hands had him trembling beneath him, his skin absolutely burning wherever Spot touched him. It wasn’t that Spot never gave him head, it was just _far_ more common for Race to get on his knees, first. But, as it seemed Spot was not about to let that happen tonight, Race allowed himself to settle into the bed and focus on how fucking _good_ it felt—Spot’s hand, Spot’s tongue, Spot’s soft, warm lips _finally_ wrapping around his cock. “Oh fuck Spot, please—” 

Spot hummed around him in response and his hips bucked and fuck, this was not going to take long at all. He cursed as Spot took him down, gripping his hair tightly. Race watched through heavily lidded eyes; wanted to sear the image into his memory. He wasn’t used to being the sole focus of Spot’s attention like this—always wanted to reciprocate, take Spot into his hands or mouth. But it felt fucking incredible, Spot’s lips as soft as ever, tongue skillful as he worked him nearly to incoherence—and he couldn’t help but hope that this wouldn't be the last time Spot spoiled him like this.

Spot surged forward, relaxing his throat, taking him as far as he possibly could and Race choked on air. The only thing that could make this better would be—

“Spot,” He gasped. Spot hummed again. “ _Fuck_ —touch yourself, please.” 

Spot pulled off with a pop. He kept his rhythm going with his hand, looking up at Race through his lashes. “Racer—”

“Please, Sean, I want you to come too,” Race knew full well what would happen when he moaned Spot’s name like that and he wasn’t disappointed. Spot inhaled harshly and Race watched with his lip between his teeth as Spot’s free hand slid down, out of his view—but he could tell the moment Spot took himself in hand because his eyes rolled back and he cursed softly and fuck, Race could have come right then. “God, you’re so hot—”

“Look who’s talkin’,” Spot said roughly before he took Race into his mouth again. The sudden warmth was overwhelming and Race cried out, digging his nails into Spot’s shoulders. Spot wasn't in much better shape; his rhythm faltered a bit as he worked himself in time but the desperate moans deep in his throat continued to push Race closer and closer to his peak.

“Fuck, Spot, I’m so close, please—” He choked out, working a hand into Spot’s hair and hanging on for dear life. "Don't stop—" Spot hummed again and the vibrations, those _lips_ , knowing that his cock in Spot’s mouth was going to get him off, too, sent Race tumbling over the edge. His head dropped back against the pillows and he was sure his grip in Spot’s hair was painful but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t move; could only gasp Spot’s name over and over as he trembled on the bed. Spot moaned around him as he swallowed him down and that in itself would haunt Race’s daydreams for years to come. 

His head was still in the clouds when he felt Spot pull off and drop his forehead against his stomach, panting into his skin as he worked his hand. Race lifted his head and if he could’ve come again at the sight, he would have. 

“God, Spot,” He groaned, using his grip on Spot’s hair to tilt his face up. Spot’s lips were wet and parted, eyes dazed and Race wished, not for the first time, that he had a photographic memory. “Come for me, please—” 

“Racer, fuck—” Spot gasped his name and dropped his head again, cursing into Race’s hip as he came, shuddering between Race’s legs. 

Race ran his fingers through Spot’s hair, scratching gently every now and then. He was still a little out of breath when Spot started to recover, pressing his lips to his abs again and making him squirm. Spot lifted his head and the crooked, wicked grin on his face stopped Race’s heart in his chest. 

“You—”

“C’mere,” Race interrupted, making grabby hands at him. Spot chuckled but obliged, crawling up the length of Race’s body and allowing Race to drag him down for a deep, breathless kiss that went on and on. Eventually, Spot cupped Race’s jaw gently with his clean hand and pulled back, smile soft on his lips.

“Baby, as much as I love kissing you,” Race’s heart pounded again at the casual way he dropped that word, trying desperately to tell himself _that’s not what he meant_. “And I do, I kinda need to go… get cleaned up.”

Race nodded, swallowing. “Yeah,” He agreed, grinning like the little shit he was. “You earned it.” 

“Shut _up_ ,”

“Never,” Race shot back, almost giddy as he winked at him. “I’ll meet ya there.”

“Looking forward to it,” Spot murmured, ducking down to press one more quick kiss to his lips before he pushed off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Race stared at the ceiling, not _really_ seeing it and fully aware that he was grinning like an idiot. He almost couldn’t wrap his head around what had just happened, after last night, after today. He glanced over at the wall furthest from the door and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his phone charger was back where it belonged—he’d bet money his toothbrush was, too. Suddenly, one room was _far_ too much separation and he hurried to the bathroom. 

A quick glance at the sink confirmed his suspicion, and he didn't try to hide his joy as he stepped into the shower, eyes roaming appreciatively over Spot’s shoulders and back. He ran a hand up his spine; Spot shivered lightly and turned to face him. He slid his arms around Spot’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“God, will I ever get tired of this?” He wondered aloud.

“I hope not,” Spot answered, his smile soft and damn near mesmerizing. He was quiet for a moment. "Just so you know, there's a lot more that I like about you, besides the physical stuff." Race snorted.

"So I'm not insufferable?" He asked, grinning. 

"Oh no, you absolutely are," Spot nodded solemnly. "But apparently that's just another thing on the list." 

"I'd like to hear that list," Race murmured, heart fluttering for what felt like the hundredth time that night when Spot tipped his chin up to kiss him, soft and so, so sure. Spot pulled back just far enough that their lips still brushed when he spoke.

"You will. Someday."


End file.
